“I don’t want pain meds. What do I need them for?” I feel like I’ve been kicked pretty hard and very precisely in the right side of my groin, and my shoulder hurts. But I’ve had worse. Half an hour on the machines in the gym and I’ll be fine. “And I don’t want to spend days lying on my fucking back, looking at the ceiling.”
“You can spend the morning on your back. This afternoon you can sit out on the deck.”
“Or I could come downstairs.”
“Not today, John. You had a major operation…”
“And it was a success. Now I’m fixed and I can get back to work.” I’m trying to keep my voice light. I feel bloated and weak, though, and it’s making me frustrated. “Give me my phone. I need to check in with Paul and Peter.”
“No, you don’t.” She smiles like an angel. “I talked to them. They’ve got everything well under control.”
“Who says? Those two?”
“No, John. Your father says.”
“Let me talk to him.”
Her hand is cool on my forehead. Like a schoolboy seeing a hint of a day off school, my body wants to slide deeper under the covers. But I know that’s just foolish weakness. Her smile brightens me inside, though. “Rest, John. Just for today. Drink lots of water and I’ll bring you whatever you want to eat and drink.”
“Only today?”
“Tomorrow you can go downstairs.”
“And I can see the family.”
“You can see Liam.”
“Kiera, this is fucking awful.”
“No, John. What you went through yesterday was fucking awful. This is just a few days of rest. Don’t make them miserable for both of us.”
“What the fuck am I going to do, though? Stare at the fucking walls? Watch Real Housewives of Po-Dunk, Ohio?”
“I’ve thought about that. You remember I was headed to the library in the main house for some books?”
“I can’t concentrate enough to read.”
“I didn’t think you could.”
“So, what?”
“So I’m going to read to you.”
“Oh, some slushy romance stories? Just what I fucking need. God damn, I can’t stand this.”
“Yeah, John. You married such an idiot, I’m going to read you Bridget Jones’ Diary, then Pride and Prejudice. After that I thought you could snuggle in for Jane Eyre, then Gone With The Wind. Maybe Rebecca and The Sheikh afterward.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“You need to drink more water. But I’ll fix you whatever you like for breakfast, as long as you don’t want too much spice.” She touches my hand and kisses my forehead. What a fucking wonderful mother she is going to be. Firm and tough, but tender and sweet at the same time. And full of so much love. She’s probably right about today. Well, this morning at least.
She smiles. “While I get breakfast, take a look at this,” she says and she puts a book beside me on the bed.
It’s a very thin paperback book.
The title is The Art of War.
Picking it up, I say, “I can read this before you’ve fixed breakfast.”
Her eyes sparkle. “I think you know most of it already. But it helps to have it all pulled together in one place.”
“You’ve read this?”
There’s a devious light in her smile. “Like you said, it’s short.”
She knows she’s piqued my curiosity. “It’s interesting to think that what Sun Tzu figured out two and a half thousand years ago still holds true today.”
“People still read this, right? I’ve heard about it.”
“Smart people do, John. Smart people like you.”
She poached eggs the way that I love them and she brings them with buttermilk waffles and maple syrup.
When she sets the tray with coffee and juice in front of me, I look up. “No bacon?”
“Not today or tomorrow. Not too much coffee, either.” I pout about that and she adds, “Is it so bad if you have to be my baby for a couple of days?”
“God, I want you, Kiera.”
“Eat your waffles.” She can see how her smile is affecting me because she struggles to straighten it out.
I tell her, “Come here.”
“I asked the surgeon. He told me no sex. Not for forty-eight hours.”
“There are different ways we can do it.”
“I asked him specifically. He said no orgasms for you. None at all.”
“How many details of our sex life did you discuss with him?”
“All the things you’re thinking about now?” Her eyes flash. “I asked him about all of them. We drew diagrams.”
She sees the look in my eye. “I’m just teasing. He asked how long we’ve been married. I said, ‘Why?’ and he told me he could see how much I loved you. He was pretty charmed. He told me if I wanted to keep you—those were his words—no orgasms for you. Not today or tomorrow morning.”
“What time tomorrow do I get to cum?”
“Five-seventeen.”
I tell her, “You can have as many orgasms as you like today, though.”
“John, if I could, I would have gone through the operation for you. I’m certainly not going to have any fun when you can’t. Whatever happens, we’re in it together.” She grips my hand.